


Not Ready to be Fixed

by twistedrainbows8908



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrainbows8908/pseuds/twistedrainbows8908
Summary: Everyone wants to fix Klaus. He doesn't know if he's ready to be fixed.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	Not Ready to be Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> im a big klaus kinnie and heres proof oop-

He was staring. He couldn’t stop staring. He was too scared to say anything. Despite all of the encouragement, he still wasn’t sure quite how much he was loved, if any. He knew he was supposed to be believing right now, he was supposed to be sure of the fact that he had their support now, from fucking pretentious Luther to Vanya, who’d decided to put all his overdoses and all the needles he’d stuck up his arm and all the diseases he’d gotten in her perfect, stereotypically depressing autobiography. Did they think he forgot all that again, how much they hurt him, that he would suddenly stop knowing how they felt? He’d be left alone for years, absolutely no furlong contact until the damn Grinch died. He didn't trust any of his siblings. He didn’t trust mom or Pogo. He didn’t trust any of those pre-recorded, corny-ass proclamations of pride and love from her pink, plastic lips.

He was still flinching away from Diego every time he tried to lay a finger on him, especially when he was asleep. He’d never had a relationship with someone that, y’ know, treated him like a human instead of a dumb fucking junkie, and he couldn’t tell Diego from some douchebag trying to fuck him when he was asleep and still lost in dreamland. The only person he trusted not to hurt him like that was Dave, and Dave wasn’t exactly around anymore. He tried to stay in his room, occasionally getting dragged out of his room for some “family night” bullshit. Everyone acts like he was so much better for not being as obnoxious, as loud, as extreme and superficially making fun of both his trauma and their trauma collectively.

He’d been locked in his room again, settled into a mess of comforters and blankets and top sheets, knitting a pair of new fingerless gloves for himself, made entirely of glittery rainbow yarn, layered. He planned on even crocheting soft, lacey, possibly purple flowers to fall over where the top of his hand would be shown with the gloves. They would look so pretty, and soft. It would feel so nice. He smiled softly down at the therm, running his thumb across the soft, squishy fabric. He was in such a state of bliss, despite how small and measly the moment may seem to all those around him. He was a little lost, stuck in his hope and happiness, before snapping out of it to a loud banging at his door. His eyes widened, and he let out a loud tired groan, sitting up straight against his all. He’d gotten rid of his bed frame along, long time ago. He simply didn’t feel free enough.

“Klaus? You’re going to have to come out. Mom finished dinner” It was Luther. Great. The most emotionally stunted of all of them. “C’mon, Klaus, you can’t stay in there forever.” He moved onto the handle, jiggling it, before grunting, staring down at the small piece of metal with furrowed eyebrows. “I hope you remember that I can rip this door open.” 

He let out another exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes back in annoyance. “So? Not like you haven’t before.”, he shot back, snarkily. “We’ll just sue the old man’s money to fix it again.” He remembered Luther ripping open his door so many times, starting when they were small children up until the Tuesday of last week. Sometimes dad had been the one to tell him to do it, having smelt his weed drifting through the house, and sometimes it had just been out of pure suspicion, even when he hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

He heard Luther let out a growl, gripping the doorknob even tighter, eyebrows furrowed. The growl went even lower. Klaus’ eyes widened a bit, before freezing up in his bed, staring up at the door. He is starting to have memories come back. Memories of past partners, tearing down doors, hurting him, destroying his way of protection when that had been all he was trying to do. Protect himself. Jesus, he’d even jumped out the window a couple of times. That had been the last time he saw Diego, all broken up in a hospital, coming down before going into withdrawal, especially with the horrific amount of ghosts within St. Mary’s Hospital. Diego had stayed with him for those few days, before driving him back to whatever crackhouse he had been living in, only caring about him for the period when he was in more danger than usual.

He was terrified, scared stiff. He shivered, staring at the door, eyebrows furrowed. He gripped hos gloves tightly, the knitting needles almost stabbing into his hands. He swallowed, shaking heavily. The door broke upon, some wood shattering out onto the ground, the wooden door smashing onto the ground. His eyes were wide, staring down at it. He was breathing so heavily, pushed back against his wall, curled up into a fetal position. He continued to stare intensely at the splintered wood, like a deer caught in the headlights, before looking up to see at Luther’s hulking mass, staring at him, facial expression monotone and eyes empty. He shrunk back, unable to tear his eyes away from his “big” brother. He couldn’t stop staring.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more! Hope you enjoy it, and you're excited!! Thank you for reading!!


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